The Lives We Lead
by NeverLookBackSamurai
Summary: The lives we lead are complex and short, filled with bitterness and strife as we lose things most dear. But there are things in this life that are worth fighting for... LaVolpeOC
1. How it All Began

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any material related to Ubisoft in any way or form.

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A/N: I believe the reviewers of my other La Volpe/OC story _Tesora_ requested more love for the mysterious Fox, and I sincerely hope I managed to deliver what they wanted. Here's to you all Death Escapist, Bloody White Rabbit, Shae, xXAngelOfSweetDeathXx, and Karrua *tilts champagne glass*. Credit also goes to my two wonderful betas Lightning4119 and ThE HiT-SmAsH TeChNiQuE for putting up with my ridiculous writing.

This will most likely be the biggest endeavor I have attempted, and I do not intend to give this story up for lost after a few chapters. However, I beg your pardon and patience in advance because I do not know how often these updates will be spread apart and I am pretty busy. I do have the story vaguely written out almost to the end, but I need to flesh it out and make it better. I might also be going back and revising things, because one, I do not speak Italian and so I've been using Google Translate, and two, I've been doing a lot of calculations regarding ages, years and other chronological events to make this as realistic a fanfic as I can write it, so please bear with me.

Constructive criticism is, as always, greatly welcomed. If you flame, all I ask is that you kindly not use vulgar language. Thank you!

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_Florence, Italy - 1493_

It was dark when Nerina finally walked home from the _Mercato Vecchio_, carrying a bundle of choice fabrics in one arm and a basket of food in another. She decided to take the shortcut home through a series of alleyways, unaware of the group of guards that decided to follow her, thoughts of things decidedly unwholesome running through their heads. At first, they left her alone, allowing her to believe she was safe, but all too soon, they moved in for the kill, until they knew she could hear them.

Nerina heard the heavy clacking of their boots and clutched her packages tighter to her body, quickening her pace. She could see the end of the alley and the safe pools of light from her home beyond.

"_Ehi_, _bella ragazza_!" called one of the guards. "Hey, pretty girl!" The young woman faltered briefly, a thrill of fear running through her, and she automatically broke into a run toward the end of the alley. The guards ran after her, catching up to her in seconds. One of them pushed her into a wall and she dropped her packages. She heard them clattering away from her in the darkness at the same time a rough man's voice whispered huskily into her ear.

"Come now, _bella_," he said. "Come play with us…" Nerina heard the sound of breech laces being undone, and a cold horror washed over her. She struggled, crying out.

"No! _Aiuto! Per favore… aiuto!_" she screamed. "Help! Please, help!" The guard holding her forced her head against the wall with a sharp _crack_, and Nerina's vision distorted into a cloudy blackness filled with white hot lancelets shooting across her vision.

"_Stai zitto_, you whore," the guard hissed, turning her around and violently pulling up her skirts. "Shut up, or I'll-" The rest of his sentence was lost in a liquid garble as blood filled his lungs. Nerina shrieked through her own pain and shied away from the man as he fell forward to his knees, resting against the wall with a silvery throwing knife embedded in his back. The guards gasped as a dark hooded figure swooped down from the rooftops, neatly impaling a spearman through the gap between his chest plate and helmet with a longsword. Nerina screamed again and gathered her wits about her, rapidly crawling away on her hands and knees as the remaining two guards turned their attention to the newcomer.

"_Correre_, lady!" he yelled at her, parrying a lunge from one of the guards with a deft stroke. "Run!" Nerina tried to get up, but she was so frozen with fear that she could only manage to crawl faster, scrabbling for a handhold to pull herself up. She heard the violent clash of blades ricochet off the alley walls, and when she looked back, she saw the guards cornering the cloaked man against a wall. She covered her mouth with a muddy hand when she saw one of the guard's blades slice cleanly through the man's side and she heard a sharp cry of agony escape him. Through his own pain, he shouted at her to keep running, and in a blind panic, she finally scrambled to her feet and fled. It was only when she was at the front door of her home, _La Rosa Colta_, that she realized the packages she had bought were still back in the alley. She banged on the door frantically.

"Alessio! Alessio, _apriti la porta_! Open the door!" The door was yanked open by a young man with short pale brown hair and deep blue eyes staring worriedly down at his sister.

"Nerina! _Grazie a Dio_! Thank God! We thought something bad had happened to you!" Nerina shook her head, tendrils of chocolate curls coming loose from the veil that kept her hair back.

"Alessio, there was a man… some guards they… the packages…"

"Nerina, _sorella_," Alessio tried, "Sister, please calm down. Breathe first, then tell me what happened!" The young woman clutched her brother's shoulders as she gasped for air.

"I was… walking home from the market with… the things Paola had requested… some guards they… cornered me in an alley… tried to force me, and a man… he dropped from the sky… told me to run…" Nerina looked up at her brother. "Alessio, I was so frightened, I did not realize I had dropped the packages! We must go back and get them!"

"What is all the fuss down there?" Nerina and Alessio looked up to see Paola's inquisitive face over the banister.

"Signora, _mi dispiace_! I'm sorry, I was attacked by guards on the way home and I dropped the packages in an alley…" Paola immediately ran down the stairs, snatching a shawl from one of the many lounge couches about the place and draped it over Nerina's shoulders.

"Hush, now, _cara_,you are safe. No harm will come to you whilst you are here." She turned to Alessio. "Wake Ilario and afterward, please come to kitchen." Alessio nodded, and squeezed his sister's shoulder gently as he disappeared into one of the bottom-floor rooms off of the foyer. Paola guided Nerina to the kitchen, where she prepared the young woman a warm draught to calm her nerves. The girl took it gratefully and sipped at it, trembling. Paola knelt beside her and cupped a hand under her chin.

"_Cara_, dear, look at me," she murmured softly. "Where were you when this happened? Tell me everything." So Nerina retold her story, the drink Paola had given her slowly quelling her fear although it did nothing to stop the tears. When she'd finished, Paola looked to be deep in thought.

"Can you tell me what those guards looked like?" Nerina nodded, giving her their descriptions as Paola wrote them down on a piece of vellum. She swiftly folded the note and placed it into a small satchel at her waist as Alessio came in followed by a tall, lanky, dark-skinned man dressed in deep crimson.

"What seems to be the matter, Paola?" Ilario asked, wide black eyes taking in Nerina's disheveled, frightened appearance with concern.

"Nerina was attacked by a group of guards in an alleyway west of here not twenty minutes ago, and they caused her to drop the packages I'd asked her to get," said Paola. "I need you two to retrieve them if at all possible. If there are guards still there or the packages are nowhere to be found, then leave them for lost. I will get more."

"_Va bene_," Ilario said, and then he quickly left with Alessio. Paola turned her attention once more to Nerina, who had finally stopped trembling, although there were still tears on her face. She gently took the cup from the younger woman's hands and placed it on an adjacent counter before taking up a dampened cloth and wiping away the dirt and grime on her face and hands.

"_Cara_… I am so sorry," Paola murmured regretfully into the girl's hair after she'd finished cleaning her off. "You'll never have go out that late again, I promise." Nerina closed her eyes, taking comfort in the elder woman's kind, motherly embrace. She'd seen Paola with the other Courtesans, and they always looked up to her with genuine respect and adoration. One of the better things about being a Courtesan in _La Rosa Colta_—or any worker there, for that matter—was that everyone knew that the headmistress would always keep her word. Nerina was almost lulled to sleep by Paola's hand stroking her hair when a sudden realization had her bolting upright.

"_Dio mio_…" she murmured, covering her mouth. Paola sat up, concern written all over her face.

"_Cara_, what is the matter?" she asked. Nerina turned to her slowly.

"The man who rescued me was injured… by the guards…" Paola's face grew pale as she mentally ran through the few possibilities of who the man could have been, when a loud crashing sound was heard outside in the foyer, accompanied by a loud shout.

"_Madonna_!" Paola and Nerina ran out of the kitchen into the foyer, and were greeted by the sight of Alessio and Ilario breathing heavily, packages dumped on the floor beside the open doorway, and a semi-conscious hooded man slung between them. Nerina stared at her rescuer, taking in the sight of the dirtied brown, hooded cloak, the mustard-colored striped tunic ripped through and soaked with blood, the rust-colored sleeves and leggings, and the short cloth boots that came up to just above his ankles. She felt a horrible dread crash down on her, and she prayed that this man wouldn't have to die on her account. She just wasn't worth it.

"Nerina! Get some towels, quick!" Alessio said, already moving the man toward the room he shared with his sister. Nerina dashed through the kitchen and into the linen storage room, grabbing as many clean cloths as she could handle before running into her room.

"Alessio, put him on my bed!"

"But-"

"He saved my life, I owe him that much!" Nerina replied, helping Paola to strip off the man's clothes so they could attend to his wounds. Alessio and Ilario left to fetch medical supplies as the women went to work on the injured man. The headmistress' mouth was drawn into a tight, thin line, and her eyes seemed pinched in anguish as she removed layer after layer of cloth, revealing a deep gash in his left side that extended from the floating ribs to just below his navel, and several other smaller, shallow cuts along the front of his torso. Nerina flushed as Paola turned to undo his breeches, and the younger woman pointedly looked away, instead reaching to remove the man's cloak. She pulled back the hood, revealing a strikingly gaunt, handsome face with a strong jawline and surprisingly full lips that were white as he groaned softly in pain. Nerina couldn't guess the man's age: his body looked to be that of a young man's, but the lines around his mouth seemed to belong to someone much older.

Deciding that further investigation of who exactly this man was would have to wait, she continued to help Paola attend to his wounds. A great deal of time later, Nerina sat beside the man, asleep now, in her bed, trying her hardest to stay awake should he need anything. Alessio slept in his own bed behind her as she dabbed at the man's forehead and neck with a cool cloth. Paola had left some time ago, claiming that she was tired, and left Nerina to care for the man, but the young woman knew the headmistress had gone to send for a doctor. Or so she thought. By the time Nerina drowsily realized the sun was lighting the window above the sleeping man, she felt herself being lifted from her chair by her brother, who gently tucked her into bed and continued watching after the man as she drifted into exhausted slumber.

.-.

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A/N: Updated from last night's horrendously short chapter. Second installment should be on its way shortly.


	2. Of Myths and Secrets

**Disclaimer**: Finals are FINALLY over, but my next semester starts on Monday. (boohoo) I can imagine this might get a bit confusing at times, and I'm still working out a few things, (writer's block is being mean to me) but thankfully, I managed to get this chapter done. I decided to take a big creative liberty regarding La Volpe after reading both the trivia section of the Assassin's Creed Wiki on him, particularly about him not seeming to have aged at all from AC2 to Brotherhood and in fact appears to be younger, and after reading the AC: Renaissance novel. Italian to English translations are provided within character dialogue in most cases, and if not, they are generally easy to equate to an English word. Hope this sates some of your thirst for more Fox-love. Thank you _so much_ for reading, it means a lot.

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Gilberto slept fitfully, his dreams feverish and disorganized. More than once he thought he woke, only to see the face of a young woman lit by the light of a flickering candle hovering over him, her long brown hair pulled back away from her oval face; chocolate-colored, almond-shaped eyes filled with worry; teeth clamped down on a full lower lip. Years of training told him that if he wanted to survive, he should not have been lying in such a vulnerable position, prone to her ministrations. But as he felt her cool, gentle touch against his fevered skin, he relaxed; she meant him no harm. It was during these times that he became aware of a sharp, burning pain lancing across his left side, and he shivered as her hands slid over his sweat-beaded skin, wrapping what felt like bandages around his abdomen. He opened his eyes slightly, struggling to focus his cloudy vision.

"Where am I?" he whispered. The woman inhaled sharply in surprise, before laying the bandages at his side and picking up a cloth, dabbing the cool material against his overheated skin.

"Hush, _messere_," she whispered. "This is _La Rosa Colta_. You are safe here."

_"I'm in Paola's guild?"_ Gilberto thought hazily. Unconsciously, he reached out with a trembling hand and caught her wrist as she dabbed at his neck. His breathing was labored as he forced himself to speak.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Nerina," she replied softly. He went silent for a moment before holding his breath, cringing as he tried to sit up. The young woman gently placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. "_Messere_, you must rest. You are wounded and need to rest if you are to heal…" Gilberto loosened his grasp on her wrist as she withdrew the cloth, instead picking up the bandages once more. He gasped in pain as she began to dress the wound once more, feeling the sharp sting of a poultice smoothed over the wound. Knowing he was in no condition to be going anywhere, Gilberto allowed her ministrations. He breathed heavily as he felt himself beginning to drift into unconsciousness, weakly tapping her hand as it passed over his abdomen to get her attention before he completely went under.

"_Grazie_… Nerina…"

-.-.-.-

Nerina gazed down at the feverish man in her bed, face drawn into a look of concern as she gnawed on her lower lip. Though she was still badly shaken from the previous night's attack, her fear for the injured man before her had overcome the fear for herself.

_"This man cannot die because of me…"_ she thought, sponging his damp brow with a cool cloth. She gently pushed his damp chin-length light brown hair out of his eyes before gently shaking his shoulder.

"_Messere_… _Messere_, please, you must wake up…" Alessio had woken before Nerina, leaving a note that he was going out with Paola to deliver a message, and Ilario was watching over the Courtesans to make sure no one would attempt to force themselves on a girl, so she was alone in tending to the wounded man. She began to change the man's bandages, cleaning it of the old salves and spreading a new poultice as she started to dress the wound. She shook him once more.

"_Messere… per favore…_" He groaned softly, and Nerina gasped when he opened his eyes, which were a beautiful brownish-blue, and tinted with violet.

"Where am I?" he rasped. Nerina quickly lay down the bandages, grabbing a damp cloth which she patted across his forehead.

"Hush, _messere_," she whispered. "This is _La Rosa Colta_. You are safe here." She watched as a blank look came over his face, his hand coming up to grasp her wrist as she wiped at his neck, before he closed his eyes, brows furrowed in pain.

"Who are you?" he whispered. Nerina debated fleetingly whether to give him her real name or the one she was publicly known by, but decided that she owed the man who had saved her life.

"My name is Nerina," she replied quietly. He made as though to get up, but she pushed him back down gently. "_Messere_, you must rest. You are wounded and need to rest if you are to heal…" She heard the man sigh and felt his grip loosen, so she placed the cloth back in the basin beside her and took up the bandages once more. The man moaned quietly in pain as she dressed the wound, but he didn't flinch, even as she smoothed the wrappings over the poultice laid over the wound. Nerina saw his eyes open blearily again at the same time she felt a tapping over her wrist as she finished dressing his wound.

"_Grazie_… Nerina…" he breathed. She watched as his eyes slid closed and he slept once more. Nerina sighed quietly, tying off the edges of the bandage and replacing the blanket over him. She heard quiet footsteps approach as she rose from her seat beside the sleeping man, gathering her used supplies, and as she turned, she nearly ran into a man in the doorway.

"Oh! _Perdonatemi…_ Pardon me…" Nerina slowly looked up at the man in her way, eyes taking in the dark hooded cloak which covered a yellow tunic striped with orange-red, russet-colored hose and a long-sleeved under-tunic. A mouth creased with laugh-lines was pulled into a tight-lipped line as violet eyes peered out from beneath the hood at her, and Nerina's hands trembled, causing her to nearly drop what she was holding. She glanced at the man lying on her bed, then back at the older man standing before her, and she wondered briefly if she'd gone crazy to be seeing double.

"What… Who-"

"This is the girl who your son saved last night, Volpe," said Paola as she stepped out from behind the man. Nerina's face paled and her shocked gaze riveted on the infamous thief of Florence, feeling a mix of both terror and awe as he swept his gaze over her.

"He always did have a tender heart for women, Paola, Courtesan or not," he murmured as he gazed at the younger man lying on the bed. Nerina frowned slightly as the thief eyed the basin of water in her hands, taking note of the swirls of red from the stained bandages soaking there, and he gently pulled back the blanket to reveal the fresh bandages she had just applied. He said nothing, only replaced the blanket and gazed down at the younger man. Nerina tiptoed quietly from the room into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her, her hands shaking badly as she set the water basin down on the counter. She heard quiet murmurings issue from the other room as she struggled to set her mind to disposing of the used bandages and water.

When she returned, the door to Alessio's and her room was still shut, although there were no voices murmuring behind it. Alessio sat at the table in the kitchen where they helped the Courtesans prepare food for the household, a cup in his hand. He rose as Nerina entered, snatching a cup from a cupboard and filling it with water before setting it beside him, smiling gently. The brunette smiled wearily in response, laying the still-wet basin on the countertop and sitting beside her brother, toying with the cup in front of her. She listened to the sounds of the _bordello_ around her, noting the faint strains of music from the foyer, the rhythm of women's steps overhead as well as that from other activities.

"Business must be bad for you to be here, relaxing," Nerina commented lightly, taking a sip from the cup in her hand. Normally the evening brought a large crowd to the _La Rosa Colta_, but it seemed as though recently there was a drought of men who needed the company of a woman for a night. Alessio nodded.

"Word on the streets tells of a Dominican preaching hellfire and brimstone to descend upon all who do not embrace a life of asceticism, and it seems as though his word is quickly affecting this business," he muttered darkly, taking a draught from his cup. "He speaks as though he himself will bring _l'inferno_ to all those who do not heed his warning." Nerina gazed sidelong at him.

"And the people of _Firenze_ believe this man?" Alessio shrugged, looking as though he'd swallowed something bitter. They'd both seen enough to know that anything could happen to the easily-manipulated and frail-minded, and this could be no exception. Nerina sighed gloomily.

"Somehow, I feel this bodes ill for the _La Rosa Colta_." The siblings were silent for a moment, each in their own thoughts.

"How is your rescuer?"Alessio asked at length. "Will he live?" Nerina's drew her lips into her mouth, biting down on them anxiously.

"Yes. At least, I believe so. I've done the best I can, but a _dottore_ may still have to be called in…" Alessio gazed sadly at her as he took her hand.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you, _sorella_," he whispered. "You never should have had to deal with those men…"

"Shh… It's over with, _fratello_. I've come to no harm." Nerina felt Alessio's grip tighten around her hand, his thumb stroking the back of it tenderly. She squeezed his hand in return. He spoke at length once more, changing the subject.

"Did you find out his name? And who is that man that Paola brought here? He looks just like the one who saved you—" Nerina looked away, something she normally did when she wasn't sure she should say something.

"Alessio, I have no idea—"

"_Nerina_." Alessio's eyes narrowed at her, and she sighed. Despite the fact that he was older than her by five years, he could still act like a child at times.

"… I didn't discover his name," Nerina began hesitantly, "but the man whom Paola brought here… he is…" Alessio tilted his head, urging her to continue.

"He is…?" Nerina swallowed nervously.

"He is the man of myths, Alessio," she whispered. "Paola called him… La Volpe." She watched as her brother's cerulean eyes went wide in surprise.

"La Volpe? _Dici sul serio_? _Il ladro_?" Alessio whispered. "Are you serious? The thief?"

"A thief, I may be, but it is for a better cause, I can assure you." Surprised, Nerina and Alessio whirled around at the sound of La Volpe's voice as he quietly closed the door to their room. Nerina observed him with narrowed eyes as he moved to sit across from Nerina, closer to Alessio. She watched, confused, as her brother seemed to sit up a bit straighter. The thief clasped his hands together, laying them on the table and leaning heavily on his forearms as he looked at the siblings.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier, but under the circumstances it had to be postponed," he said, sounding exhausted. "I am indeed the one who they all call La Volpe."

"I am Alessio, and this is my younger sister, Nerina." Violet eyes lifted to gaze at the siblings, irises seeming to flicker every so often, and Nerina felt uneasy as he fixed her with an even gaze. He held his hand out.

"_Signorina_, I offer my condolences for the unpleasant turn of events that transpired last night, and I thank you for caring for my son," the thief said. Nerina hesitantly gave him her hand, not quite believing that the notorious La Volpe was thanking _her_ for _anything_. He gripped it tightly but gently, callused fingers smoothing over her skin. Alessio frowned slightly, watching as his sister attempted to pull back from his grasp. He saw the thief's eyes flicker briefly, and a look of interest came over his face.

"You are not a Courtesan," he said abruptly. Nerina was taken aback by the sudden statement and answered almost defiantly.

"I am not."

"You are not merely a maid in this _bordello_, though," he continued. Nerina felt herself growing irritated despite herself.

"No, I am not just a maid here. _Messere_, I do not understand where this is going—"

"Your hands are soft, like a Courtesan's, yet there is roughness there as well, and a scent of both perfume and medicinal herbs." Alessio's hand shot out to grip La Volpe's wrist, fingers digging into the man's wrist.

"Nerina is a dancer here at the _bordello_, and she's also learned the art of _medicina_, what of it?" he asked almost threateningly. The thief's face betrayed no emotion as he pressed them.

"A dancer? And you, a guard?" He looked at Alessio, who now had a shocked expression on his face. "For how long?"

"Volpe, perhaps your… _questions_ ought to be directed to someone other than my children." Nerina and Alessio looked as Paola entered the kitchen, brushing the front of her skirt off as she neared the table.

"I was not aware that you had any children, Paola," said the thief, eyeing the former Courtesan with a frown on his face. "You ought to know that I make it my business to know everything there is to know regarding this city."

"I have not forgotten," she replied evenly, coming around to place a hand on both siblings' shoulders. "Alessio and Nerina are not of my blood, but they are my children nonetheless." Silence descended over the table, broken only when the thief resumed his questioning, though he wisely changed the subject.

"Alessio, before, you mentioned a Dominican…" Nerina glanced sideways at her brother, who seemed momentarily at a loss for words.

"… _S-Sí_, it is what the heralds are saying and the people appear to believe it." The Fox's frown deepened and Paola leaned closer.

"Where did you hear this?" the thief asked.

"At the _Mercato Vecchio_ this morning, when I went to retrieve some groceries Paola had ordered," Alessio answered.

"What was the Dominican's name?" the thief asked.

"The heralds said his name was Girolamo Savonarola." The hooded man looked down at the wood grain of the table pensively, and Paola's body suddenly went tense. Nerina glanced at her brother, who returned the look, confusion on both their faces.

"Is this something we should know about?" Nerina asked. The Fox looked up at her, eyes seeming to look over her in great detail.

"Perhaps, Nerina. But I believe that it is a matter I should speak to Paola about first." Nerina bristled slightly at his dismissive tone, but one look at the shattered expression on Alessio's face made her forget her own worries as she urged her brother out the back door into the shaded courtyard where a few groups of Courtesans were swaying seductively, trying to entice the evening's passersby. Nerina sat her brother down on a cushioned bench, taking his hands in hers.

"_Fratello_… Brother, what is the matter?" she asked in a hushed whisper. Alessio looked away, hiding his azure eyes beneath his bangs.

"There is something Paola is not telling us, hasn't told us for a long time, Nerina. I want to know what it is." Nerina bit her lip, hearing the truth behind her brother's words but at the same time fearful that the repercussions of distrusting their benefactress could force them both into a life they did not desire, or worse.

"Alessio, Paola is our only lifeline. We cannot just go about accusing her without anything to base them on—"

"But Nerina, how do you explain La Volpe's sudden appearance here? He's supposed to be a myth, and now you discover that the man who saved your life is his _son_? Tell me, who do you think really deserves an explanation of what's really going on?" Nerina could taste blood as she bit her lip once more.

"…_Va bene_, we'll ask her when she is available then."


	3. Disclosure

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any material related to Ubisoft in any way or form.

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A/N: Hi everyone, I'm really sorry I haven't updated in a while, but college has been busy, and I've been stuck in severe writer's block on this story. Ironic, since I'm finally in a creative writing class and I've got assignments due every other day.

Anyway, being on spring break, I managed to pull this together more or less how I wanted it to go, but I apologize if it seems awkward and/or slow. I admit I'm not great at writing multi-chaptered fics, (one-shots and _very _short stories are my forte) so I'm trying to slow myself down and develop the plot, characters, etc., and I realize that with a lot of dialogue, it can get pretty boring. It'll move a bit faster in the near future, so thanks for bearing with me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter~

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When Gilberto awoke next, he saw his father's face lit by the flickering light of a lantern, half-hidden in the shadow of his hood. The elder man's mouth was drawn into a thin line, the creases at the corner of his mouth, eyes, and on his forehead seeming deeper in the shadow. His violet eyes shone with concern in the lantern glow and he laid a gentle hand on Gilberto's sweat-dampened forehead.

"_Mio figlio…_" he sighed. "What have I told you about not compromising the Brotherhood? Even for a woman?" Hearing the implication behind the elder's words, Gilberto stared hard at his father through slitted eyes before sliding his gaze toward the small window through which the stars could be seen past a latticed canopy. The younger man inhaled sharply.

"_Cos'altro __avresti__ dovuto __fare a me_?" he whispered. "What else would you have had me do?" La Volpe's eyes softened at his son's tone, and his hand slid down to grasp the younger man's in his own comfortingly. He knew exactly what Gilberto was actually referring to—the pain his son carried in his heart was like a lead weight; the anguish and rage was what gave him purpose and kept him alive as he fought against the Borgia scum ravaging the whole of _Italia_.

"I had hoped you would have learned from what happened with Emiliana," La Volpe said quietly. "There are many more women throughout the country who die every day at the hands of the Borgia. Why would you choose to save Nerina?" Gilberto cringed in pain as he sat up and stared hard at his father.

"If I managed to save one innocent woman's life, that's one less life I have to guilt my conscience further," he growled back. La Volpe closed his eyes, asking himself not for the first time why he allowed his son to become involved in this war.

"You did all you could for her. You know that." Gilberto clenched his teeth as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Dressing himself in the clean clothes left at the foot of the bed, he stood, pausing before he walked out the door. He forced himself to breathe calmly despite the pain in his side, and his response was curt and painful.

"Not enough if she's dead."

-.-.-.-

Only an hour after Nerina and Alessio had fled to the courtyard, the evening crowds dissipated, and the Courtesans began to retire for the night. Alessio temporarily put aside his own worries to help Ilario look after the women as they began trickling in through the alleyways, making sure there would be no one to try and force themselves on a girl. Nerina returned to the kitchen, where she helped a few of the other maids and Courtesans handing out platters of food and cups of hot medicinal tea for the girls coming in. Paola was there, closing the door to Alessio's and Nerina's room behind her as she strode up to the younger woman, and as Nerina looked around, she saw that the thief lord had disappeared for the time being, although she was suspicious that the man was waiting within the room.

The Courtesans gradually retired to their rooms, leaving Nerina and Paola alone in the kitchen tidying up for the next day. Alessio walked in just as the brunette finished putting away the cups. The siblings gazed sidelong at the woman draped in crimson, and Nerina took a deep breath to summon her courage.

"Paola." The mistress of the _bordello_ paused in putting away a dish to look at the siblings. Nerina bit her lip as she continued. "There is something I… we… wish to know." Paola slowly placed the dish back in its appropriate place and turned to face them.

"Of course. What do you wish to know?" Nerina glanced at her brother, silently pleading for him to continue what she suddenly couldn't ask. Alessio began in a hushed voice, as though there might be eavesdroppers around them.

"Before, when La Volpe was here, he interrogated us as though we were informants. Then when we ask if we should know about something, he tells us that he must speak with you first." Nerina slipped her hand in her brother's, trying to reassure herself as much as him.

"We want to know what it is that you're hiding from us, Paola," she said firmly. Paola gazed impassively at the two for a long while, before finally sighing.

"I had hoped to never inform you of this, but… _Va bene_. This may take a while, so please, sit down." She gestured to the seats surrounding the table in the kitchen, and the siblings followed her directive. Paola breathed deeply as she sat across from them, staring into the flame of a candle on the table; she'd never been good at explaining subjects such as this, no matter the training she'd received, so she decided to start from the very basics.

"You know that this is a _bordello_, a house of pleasure where Courtesans reside. You've lived here for twelve years now: Nerina, since you were six, and Alessio, since you were twelve. I have cared for you, raised you as my own children, and tried my hardest to keep you safe from the world around you. You've both witnessed the immense depravity mankind is capable of inflicting upon each other. But because I have tried hard to keep it from you, you've never understood the war going on just beneath the surface of society.

"Perhaps," she sighed heavily, "my sheltering you is my biggest fault.

"There are two factions at work in this war: the Templars, those who seek to enslave all of humankind and bend us to their will; and the Assassins, those who see to it that such a thing will never come to pass in order to preserve the free will of all humanity. We," she pressed a hand to her chest, "are part of the Assassin Order."

"Within the Order are three sub-factions, each with their own guild and guild leaders: the Mercenaries, the Thieves, and us, the Courtesans. Each guild's members work on the streets, gathering information about our enemies and, at times, antagonizing them. We do this so that the fourth faction—the Assassins, who are the ones who do much of the gruesome work—may know everything about their target."

Here, Paola paused, gauging the reactions of her two young charges, both of whom gazed back at her with unreadable expressions on their faces. She sighed wearily and continued in a softer tone, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Who we are—what we do—is neither pretty nor glorious. We train in the shadow arts: pickpocketing, flattery, lies, trickery, eavesdropping, spying, forgery. Perhaps the worst attribute of the Assassins is that we kill as the Templars kill. But we do so in the effort to maintain the freedom of and create a better future for mankind. As our creed teaches us, we work in the darkness to serve the light. That is what makes us Assassins."

There was a long silence which greeted Paola's words as the siblings struggled to absorb the deluge of information. Nerina wished she could call it a bizarre tale told to children before bed, but the more she thought about it, the more the pieces seemed to fall into place, until Nerina had no choice but to accept Paola's words as the truth. She glanced at Alessio, whose lower lip was paled and drawn into his mouth as he chewed on it, something she knew he did whenever he was nervous about something. As the silence wore on, Nerina reached out to Paola, grasping her hands and looking straight at her benefactress. She broke the quiet.

"_Grazie_, Paola, for telling us this," she said, pausing as she considered her next words. "Had we known earlier, we would not have caused you so much trouble—I am sure we would have done anything we could to help you—"

The door to Alessio's and Nerina's room opened just then, cutting off Paola's reply and revealing the injured young man from before. Nerina stood up shakily, her mind still staggering from everything she'd just been told, but her medicinal training automatically kicked in as she saw him wince painfully and lean against the door frame for support.

"_Messere_, you should remain in bed. You need to recover." He waved her off irritably, disregarding her. Nerina bristled.

"I am fine," he muttered, struggling to walk toward the doorway that led to the foyer. Nerina's gaze flickered from the young man to his father, who had just stepped out from the other room, frowning, and she raised her voice to sound more authoritative.

"With all due respect, _messere_, your wound is still fresh and must be attended to carefully, so I insist that you return to bed. I will be along shortly to help you-"

"Help me?" the younger man interrupted her. He chuckled bitterly, turning to smile mockingly at her. "You're a weak, helpless woman who can't even take care of herself. What could you possibly do to help me?"

Nerina saw red at the same time she heard Alessio shout. Her eyes flicked to the counter, finding the dull gleam of a kitchen blade there. She felt herself step forward as though in slow motion, feeling the smooth handle glide easily into her hand, her fingers curl around it as she brought it up to the level of her shoulder. She lunged toward the younger man, whose eyes narrowed as he tried to dodge her oncoming assault. But Nerina felt her momentum halted abruptly, nearly breaking her wrist as a firm hand wrapped around the one holding the knife, twisting it so she shrieked in pain, her fingers loosening until the blade clattered uselessly to the floor. She felt her arm being pinned between her back and another's body, and as she looked up, she saw La Volpe's eyes gazing impassively down at her. She screamed with frustration and anger as she struggled against his hold, but he wouldn't let go. After a few minutes, Nerina tired and she growled, lifting her head to meet the young man's pained expression with a fierce glare.

"I may be a woman," she hissed venomously, "but I am _far_ from helpless. Do _not_ assume to call me as such."

"That's enough out of you," said La Volpe, keeping a firm grip on her wrist. He eyed his son, who was slumped against the door, breathing heavily from the adrenaline shock. His voice was low, dangerous, as he spoke.

"Gilberto, that was a grave offense. What you said was unkind and uncalled for. You owe this _signorina_ an apology and—"

"I'll take no apology from that pig of a man—!"

"That's enough!" All eyes went to Paola, who had a severe expression on her face. "Nerina, you are hereby confined upstairs for the duration of Gilberto's recovery. Gilberto, you will remain here at all times until you are fully able to leave the _bordello_. _Capito_?" A knock sounded at the door behind Gilberto, and a timid voice called through the wood.

"Paola? Paola, are you all right in there?"

"Yes, I am, Lucia," Paola replied, striding over to Nerina and taking her from La Volpe, who moved to help his son back to the other room. She guided the younger woman to the door, opening it to reveal a young, pretty, petite round-faced woman with bright blue eyes and pale blond hair, standing in the doorway in a nightgown and wringing her hands as she looked at Nerina.

"Lucia, Nerina is to stay with you from now on. You are to be her guardian for the duration of our _guest's_ stay, and not allow her to be alone in the kitchen with our guest, _capito_?" Lucia glanced around the doorframe, catching sight of a brown and yellow hooded figure and nodded. Alessio edged his way past the three women on his way to the guards' room where Ilario most likely was, deciding that it was a wise time to leave. Lucia tried to smile encouragingly at Nerina, who had a sullen, shameful look on her face as she began to lead the brunette up the stairs to her room. As much as she loved her friend, Nerina couldn't bear to have Lucia see her like this, still recovering from the sudden bout of madness which had overtaken her. As soon as the blond Courtesan had drawn Nerina into her room, the brunette felt her emotions overwhelm her, and threw herself on the plush bed and wept angrily.

-.-.-.-

Back in the siblings' room, Gilberto was struggling not to yell obscenities at his father as he cleaned and redressed the wound in his side, which had reopened when he tried to leave the _bordello_.

"I do not know what possessed you to make such an unfounded accusation against Nerina," La Volpe said, "but what you did was strictly against everything I have taught you. You were never like this with Emiliana." Gilberto ground his teeth and stifled a painful groan as the poultice shifted roughly under the bandages his father was winding about his torso.

"With Emiliana," he growled, "I never _had_ the problem of trying to save her."

"Yet in the end, you did try to save her life. And you failed," La Volpe rebuked bluntly. "Your feelings of guilt are no cause to displace your anger on someone else." Gilberto immediately shut his mouth, silently fuming as he felt old pains well up in his heart. The older man saw the anguished look in his son's eyes, and as much as he wished he could retract his statement, he knew he had to say it. How else was his son to properly learn from his faults if someone did not point them out to him? La Volpe sighed under his breath, finishing off the bandages and gathering up the dirtied supplies. He turned to the door and spoke curtly.

"You need to recover, Gilberto, so get some sleep." The elder man walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving Gilberto to reflect on his through the night, it was the fact that his father had tied the bandages a little too tight around his wound which reminded him of La Volpe's displeasure.

-.-.-.-

Paola was sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, when the thief returned. Quietly, he walked over until he stood beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You appear to have a wildcat on your hands, Paola." La Volpe said smoothly, as though the violent rampage had never occurred. His eyes sparkled mischievously as the woman looked up at him. She sighed.

"It would appear that I overlooked her fiery temper," Paola said evenly. "She never had a cause for provocation in all these years prior to your son's outburst, so I did not know the extent of her emotional capabilities." The thief stared pensively into the dying embers of the hearth, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

"Impressive, though, if unorthodox," he said at length. "She went straight for him without hesitation. It's rare that you find an ordinary woman without proper training who is willing to physically fight back; rarer still to find one that does not falter in her resolve to kill." Paola cradled her face in her hands at La Volpe's words. A smirk curled his lips. "I just might be interested in taking her on…" Paola abruptly stood, planting her hands firmly on the table.

"No. Not unless it is absolutely necessary. She is my daughter, and Alessio is my son…" she trailed off, sitting back down. "Why must you always speak like a cold-blooded strategist when it comes to your son?" she asked, exasperated, changing the subject once more. She knew that despite his seemingly casual tone, La Volpe loved his child and had been afraid for Gilberto's life. The thief shrugged, chuckling softly.

"I suppose it would come from doing this line of work for so many decades. My own father left _Firenze _to me when I was eighteen, you know." He gazed down at the woman, who seemed to have become exhausted as she slumped in the chair, looking up at him. His violet eyes softened as he returned her gaze. "I _am_ getting along in years, Paola. Florence will need a new thief guild master soon enough—"

"And I assume you are intending to leave it to Gilberto? He seems far too hot-tempered for the job." La Volpe was quiet for a few moments as he stared out the window into the latticed courtyard.

"I know. And I have not decided for certain yet. Ever since _Il Magnifico_ died, things here in _Firenze _have dissolved into chaos. There are new factions at war every day, it seems, struggling for power." He looked back at her. "Should something happen to me, one of my younger sons will take my place here as guild master."

"Younger? So then your eldest was—?"

"Yes. Originally, I would have left _Firenze_ to Clemente. He's more than capable of keeping an eye on the city. But after the decimation of the guild in Milan, he was voted to take on the job as guild master there." When the thief did not continue, Paola eyed him suspiciously.

"And where is the other?" La Volpe grinned lopsidedly at her and chuckled.

"Silvio finally decided that he did not wish for me to train him. He said he wanted to be trained with an impartial guild master, so Antonio will be keeping him in Venice until he is ready to take over one of the guilds." Paola lowered her gaze, sighing softly.

"How fast time passes…" There was a brief silence, broken only when Paola yawned grandly.

"The hour grows late, Paola," he murmured softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Perhaps you should retire." The former Courtesan looked up, exhaustion clearly evident I her features.

"And where will you go? It is too late to think of returning to the thieves' guild. Why don't you stay here—"

"I will stay here and sleep on one of the couches," he assured her, smoothing a lock of deep chestnut hair away from her eyes. Paola closed her eyes at his touch and the thief smiled, pressing a feather-light kiss to her cheek.

"Go get some rest, Paola. You'll need it." She smiled at the thief before extinguishing the lights around the kitchen. When she was at the door, she turned, watching the thief's violet eyes shimmer in the dark.

"Wake me if you or Gilberto requires something. Sleep well… Alessandro." As he watched Paola disappear into the dimmed foyer, La Volpe didn't know whether to laugh or frown at her knowledge of his real name. Finally, as he lay down on one of the couches in the foyer, he settled on a low chuckle.

_Surprising, as always, Paola_.

-.-.-.-

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A/N: Please don't kill me for confusing you all with the new names. It's all just part of the story. I'll even do a family tree later if anyone wants me to. Hope you enjoyed it~


	4. River

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any material related to Ubisoft in any way or form.

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A/N: Writer's block is a pain. Really, it is. Cut this chapter down from one long one to two because I realized last minute that it needed some serious revising.

Random factoid: I have a master document for this story on which I keep record of all the chapters up to date, along with what I have written for future chapters (and the end, but I'm not telling that yet ;) ). Within the master document, I found the paragraph which really started me thinking about writing this:

The Fox did not normally tail a single woman for days on end, keen violet eyes watching her every movement as she leaves her home to go about her daily routine at the market and the various shops belonging to doctors, blacksmiths, and tailors. But it is this particular woman who had intrigued him, the one who healed the wound in his side. Nerina.

Yeah, I know. Not brilliant, but it's more or less what's started me on this story. :P Anyway, I hope you enjoy this update, and I'll try to work out of writer's block faster.

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The next few weeks after Nerina's attack on Gilberto were filled with a tension so thick, even the youngest Courtesans were quick to avoid the woman as she stormed about the _bordello_ tending to her tasks, helping the other maids and Courtesans cook, clean, and change and wash linens. The only ones who seemed perfectly at ease were Paola and Lucia, Nerina's best friend, who had been temporarily relieved from her duties as Courtesan for the duration of Gilberto's stay. Lucia knew, of course, that Gilberto was part of the Assassin Order, so it surprised her immensely that Nerina had had the nerve to do what she had done. She burned to ask Nerina why she'd tried to attack the son of the almost-mythical Florentine Thief, but decided to wait until her friend had calmed down some.

With all of the excitement that had gone on over the past few days, Nerina knew that she'd been neglecting her duties as a dancer, but she was reluctant to perform with _that man_ in the _bordello_. As it turned out, the decision was made for her when she returned one day from her breakfast to find her dancing outfit laid out neatly on Lucia's spare bed. She huffed, annoyed, but began to dress anyway, recounting the steps in her choreography.

-.-.-.-

Gilberto's wound had healed faster than anyone expected. Even the _dottore_—a portly little man in a black cloak much too long for him with a long-beaked, herb-filled mask—said that his progress was "remarkable for a man his age." Gilberto had to scoff at that; he'd heard hundreds of men told the same thing, so he didn't really believe that it was the doctor's medicine that had done the job, but just his body naturally healing itself, albeit quickly. After the doctor finished his examination, he pulled a white linen doublet over his shoulders, fastening it up carefully to avoid aggravating his still-healing wound before yanking on his short cloth boots as his father walked in the door. La Volpe came by every day to check on his son, and it just so happened that on this day, they noticed that the foyer, normally full of the bustle of Courtesans with their customers, had suddenly become very quiet. Gilberto paused in tying his light brown hair back with a leather thong, and rose gingerly from the bed to creep toward the doorway leading to the foyer. He pulled back the red drapes and was surprised to see that a crowd had gathered on the edge of the foyer, eyes locked on something—or someone—standing in the middle.

Despite his father's hushed warning, Gilberto silently melted into the crowd, keeping to the walls as he tried to find a place to watch from. When he finally found a place, music had already begun to play, and Gilberto saw that there was a masked figure in the center, dressed in a blue silk and linen skirt, midriff-baring top, and sheer veil which wrapped around the dancer's wrists. Though he did appreciate art in many forms, dancing among his favorites, Gilberto's eyes wandered out of habit, surveying the faces of the _bordello_'s patrons, looking for any sign of Templars who might have found their way to the Courtesan guild. He found none who looked suspicious, save for a tiny old man dressed in the black robes of a monk, bouncing on his feet with hands held to his lips, though in horror or amazement, Gilberto did not know. Yet. The Thief leaned against the wall, directing his gaze toward the dancer in the center, but still kept the monk at the edge of his sight.

-.-.-.-

Nerina was satisfied when she'd finished glancing around at the crowd, unable to find the one man she'd been dreading to see. She adjusted her Carnevale mask—something she wore simply to keep the men from knowing her identity—and smiled faintly to herself.

"_He's not here,"_ she thought as she closed her eyes, lifting her arms above her head and settling into an elegant, graceful pose. She sighed. _"Bene. At least that bastardo won't be here to ruin my dance."_ She inhaled, waiting for the music to start, and as a soft note began, she moved.

As the music began, she merely fluttered her hands over her body, alighting on delicate, sensual places that drew every man's eye to caress the delectably bared slivers of creamy skin. Her eyes, lined with kohl, lowered toward her sandaled feet, the anklets and bracelets tinkled softly as she stepped and moved, sweeping the back of her hand to follow the curve of her face. A soft ringing echoed in the music, to which she trailed a hand from her belly to her parted lips and upward, as though drawing her very soul from her body. Suddenly, the music changed; swelled and grew, and she dipped low, gracefully prostrating herself, her hair fanning across the floor in waves, until another swell had her back arching as she lifted her breasts to the ceiling, as though offering her very heart to take wing and be one with the gods, and her arms slowly came to rest palm-up against the ground.

Suddenly, Nerina lifted herself upright, raised her arms and lowered them thrice, as though she were a bird struggling to fly. The music exploded into a waterfall of symphony, mournful and hauntingly beautiful, and she curled in on herself, bringing her hands to her breast as though in prayer, and she fell to her knees, swirling her arms about her before lifting a single pale hand to the ceiling, seeming to reach for something. She rose to her feet, lifted her hands with greater strength and boldness, swirled them downward and around, mimicking the flow of a flooding river in spring, the glory of rushing tides and pouring rains.

As Nerina lifted her eyes to the audience in mimicry of what she thought was a seductive gaze, she caught sight of Gilberto behind a pair of swaying drunks, dressed in a white doublet with his hair pulled back. She felt herself grow angry, that the man had dared to intrude upon her performance, and she whipped the veil wrapped about her wrists over her head a little harder than she should have. If she was going to dance, she wouldn't give the man the pleasure of seeing her move like a weak, delicate woman. Deviating from her normal, graceful choreography, Nerina began to move more boldly, defiantly, leaping and twisting her body in ways she'd seen the men do in performance troupes passing through Florence. The audience thought nothing of the abrupt change, only cheered louder at the sudden display of acrobatics, and it seemed to them that as the music softened into silence, she was artfully illustrating the magnificence of the crashing waterfall, and the untamed wildness of the wind in the trees.

By the end of the rendition, when the musicians were silent, and Nerina's head was bowed low over her crossed legs, arms spread to her sides and hands cradling the ends of the veil as flutters of cloth descended over her, the spectators had already erupted into ardent applause. When the young woman lifted her head, rising from her seated position to bow to the audience, Nerina was not surprised to see Gilberto's gaze locked on her. She ignored him for the time being, sweeping her hands out to encourage the audience's applause unto the smiling musicians behind her. Whoops and catcalls absorbed into the heavy crimson drapes as the crowd began to dissipate, small groups of men breaking off to turn their attention once more to the Courtesans lining the walls, jugs of wine in their hands. Like every other time she performed, only a few men were bold enough to approach Nerina as she helped the musicians put away their instruments.

"_Ehi, bella_, why don't you come with me, eh?" cooed one man. "I can show you a good time…"

"_Bellissima_, don't believe his lies," said another. "I can last twice as long as this _vecchio_ here…"

"You're very kind," Nerina smiled charmingly, trying hard to conceal her disgust at the men's drunken attempts at flirting, "but I am already obligated to another event. Perhaps another time." The men groaned and were about to entreat her once more, but Nerina caught sight of a wizened old man in black monk's robes striding boldly up to her. She struggled to summon her most welcoming attitude.

"_Buonasera, messere_. Good evening. How may I help you—?"

"How can you wear such clothes and dance so provocatively? Don't you know your soul is at stake?" The group was surprised at the loud, bold interruption. Nerina glanced around briefly, seeing that a few of the other Courtesans had noticed and were disappearing to find Paola. She looked back at the man. Was this the Dominican Alessio had heard about? The one who preached the embracing of asceticism and hellfire for those would not? Nerina frowned ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry, _messere_, I do not understand what you m—"

"You foolish woman!" he shrieked, violently shoving Nerina to the floor. She screeched in surprise and outrage, and the foyer became silent at the sudden outburst. All eyes turned to the old man, who faced the crowd. "You are all foolish! Don't you see? You will not be saved if you do not relinquish your desire for earthly pleasures!" The crowd began to murmur, a few drunks swaying toward the man, their faces growing red with anger as they shouted at the monk.

"Who do you think you are, coming here of all places to preach to us?" one man shouted.

"Don't we have to listen to you enough on the street?" cried another. Nerina backed away from the old man, feeling the hands and arms of the men surrounding her lift her up gingerly. She caught sight of Gilberto slipping easily through the crowd toward the man, face drawn in a grave expression. He caught the old man's wrist, twisting it painfully.

"That's enough out of you," she heard him say. "Leave. Now." The monk struggled against Gilberto, shouting threats in Latin. Alessio and Ilario appeared with Paola, hurrying through the crowd to join Gilberto, who had managed to pin the old man's arm behind his back. The monk continued to shriek as he struggled against the three men.

"Pledge your allegiance to Savonarola! Give up your sinful ways! Only then will you be saved!"

"Get him out of here!" one of the men beside Nerina shouted. The crowd roared its approval and a few men peeled themselves away from the Courtesans lining the walls to join Gilberto, Alessio, and Ilario in ousting the monk, who continued to scream and protest.

"You'll see! You will all burn for this! You'll see!" he yelled. Nerina saw a bronze-clothed arm poke out from behind the drapes leading to the kitchen, gesturing slightly. She saw Paola slip quietly toward the drapes, and Nerina slipped away from the men, who had begun to debate amongst themselves about the old man's sanity. She felt the crowd pull away from her, their attention still on the monk, so she was able to retreat to the relative sanctity of the kitchen undisturbed. There, she found La Volpe and Paola already deep in discussion about the old man.

"According to one of my spies, that was not Savonarola," La Volpe was saying. "Rather, that was one of his newest believers. I told you that Savonarola tends to send the fresh recruits to places like this." Paola nodded, barely glancing at Nerina as she walked in the door, divesting herself of her mask.

"Regardless of who he is, we need to remain vigilant," Paola replied. "Now that they've been here, there's a chance they may become tenacious in their quest to rid Florence of us." The Fox smiled.

"I'm sure you and your girls are more than capable of handling that, Paola. Although if worse comes to worst, I'd be more than willing to take some of—" Nerina heard the sound of feet slapping against tamped dirt and she turned her gaze to the backdoor of the kitchen just as Gilberto burst in, Ilario and Alessio breathlessly in tow.

"He managed to break out of our hold and ran. We need to find out who he is, where Savonarola has them hiding," Gilberto said, virtually unfazed by the struggle. He glanced at his father. "Shall I—?"

"No, I will find out," said La Volpe. "Stay here, Gilberto. Protect the guild." Paola glanced at the older man as he opened the door and darted out. Nerina heard the faint sounds of feet scrabbling up the wooden trellis of the courtyard, before the quiet pounding of running over the tiled roof overhead, and she couldn't help but blink in amazement at the man's agility and strength despite how old he appeared.

"_Dio mio_…" Nerina caught Gilberto's glance at her as she whispered under her breath and she frowned, turning to Paola. The Courtesan mistress looked at all of them with a grave expression.

"There is a chance we may be forced to close because of that monk. He was one of many false holy men preaching the word of Savonarola, the Dominican you heard about at the market," she looked at Alessio and Nerina. "From now on, all of you must remain extremely vigilant."

"_Madonna_, how are we to help you if we have no skills to fight?" Nerina asked. Paola shook her head, smiling.

"I'm not going to teach you how to fight, _cara_," she said. "I'm going to teach you how to survive."


	5. Set in Motion

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Assassin's Creed or any material related to Ubisoft in any way or form.

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EDIT: Fixed a major time/plot discrepancy in terms of a character's appearance. For those who've already read the chapter prior to the edit, that character will return eventually. Many thanks to Frigyt for pointing out my mistake.

* * *

The first day they returned from pickpocketing, Nerina trembled all over, body shot through with adrenaline and mild shock as she heard the faint jingling of the pouch full of coins hidden in her corset. As Paola had promised, she'd taught both Alessio and her brother the sly sleight of hand and silent withdrawal of coins from loose pockets. With his father gone for the time being and his wound still healing, Gilberto reluctantly followed Paola in teaching the siblings in the courtyard, going even so far as to praise Alessio, who picked up the techniques quickly. In contrast, Nerina hadn't taken well to the flirtatiousness required for her to win over potential victims. Despite her shortcomings, Lucia had helped her, passing Nerina off as one of the "new girls" and claiming she was shy. This of course, had garnered her more than enough unwanted attention, and, coupled with Gilberto's snorts of indignation at her lack of progress, forced Nerina to become more self-conscious and uncomfortable.

As the days passed, Alessio noticed his sister withdrawing into herself, shying away from the men—and occasional woman—who tried to flirt with her, smiling tensely, eyes widening. The more uncomfortable she became, the shorter Gilberto was with her, who generally accompanied the group on their 'outings.' After a month of pickpocketing, and despite Lucia's entreaties, Nerina couldn't bear to don the garb of a courtesan anymore.

"I can't do it anymore, Lucia. I can't stand them _leering_ at me everywhere I go!" The brunette sat on her friend's bed, fisting the coverlet in frustration and disgust.

"Nerina, be reasonable," the blond beseeched. "I know you're uncomfortable, but this is the only way you can blend in with the crowd—" A quiet knock sounded against the door. Lucia bit her lip and got up to answer it, surprised by who stood there.

"Uh—_buongiorno, messere_," said Lucia, trying to maneuver to hide her friend's state of undress. "Good morning. How may I help you…?" Gilberto looked at the blond from beneath his hood then glanced over her shoulder at Nerina, who scowled and yanked the coverlet to cover the dressing gown she wore, feeling distinctly naked under his piercing gaze. He looked back at the blond.

"I know she's been feeling uncomfortable," he said quietly, handing a bundle of cloth to Lucia. "If it makes her feel better, I've brought her some clothes that the thieves like to wear. Maybe—" he looked back up at Nerina, "it'll help you gain the confidence to pickpocket properly." The woman stared at Gilberto, noting that there was no trace of malice or mockery in his voice. She held his gaze for a moment, before he looked away, nodding silently to Lucia before retreating down the hallway to the stairs. The blond closed the door and turned slowly, eyebrows raised silently in question toward Nerina, who frowned slightly before dropping the coverlet and motioning to bring the bundle over. Untying the rope from the package, she pulled out a man's long-sleeved tunic, vest, hose, trousers, a felt cap, and even a pair of short cloth boots, and laid the items on the bed. Nerina felt momentarily stunned by the display of compassion, considering everything else Gilberto had thrown at her. It was Lucia who voiced the unspoken question.

"Why does he care?" The brunette could only shake her head.

"I don't know."

-.-.-.-

"_Why __**do **__I care?"_ Gilberto asked himself as he maneuvered through the sinuous hallways of the _bordello_. _"She's nothing more than a foolish maid who thinks too highly of herself and hates men. And obviously can't pickpocket because she's distracted by her discomfort around men. At least with Emiliana, she—"_ He stopped himself, pausing in his stride at the top of the stairwell, passing a hand over his eyes as he remembered playful brown eyes framed by even darker hair that fell in waves down creamy shoulders, a pert mouth curved into a crimson smile, before everything was tainted by blood—

"Gilberto." The younger man jerked back to the present as a hand enveloped his shoulder, shaking him awake. He turned to meet the concerned violet eyes of his father. Gilberto inhaled sharply and looked away, catching sight of Paola as she stood at the base of the stairs, a sympathetic expression on her face. La Volpe drew his son back with more insistence.

"We need to talk about that monk." Gilberto watched Paola turn to a group of courtesans who had entered from the kitchen. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, livid with himself for the moment of weakness, weakness he knew Paola knew all too well.

"_Sí_, _padre._"

-.-.-.-

It was past sunset by the time they returned to the _bordello_. Against her initial wishes, Paola had graciously allowed her to wear the clothes Gilberto had brought her when Nerina went out on the streets to pickpocket that day. With Alessio's help, she'd managed to pocket more than double what she normally stole in her courtesan garb. The brunette peered out warily from under the brim of her cap as she guided her companions through the alleyways, breathing a sigh of relief when they finally walked into the latticed courtyard. It had only been a few months since the group of guards had attempted to rape her, and she still felt as uncomfortable walking through the alleys. Yet with the clothes Gilberto had given her, she admittedly felt safer as she traversed the shadowed streets. She reached for the back door of the _bordello _at the same time as it opened in front of them, revealing a dark-haired man who looked to be near thirty, dressed in rich garments of red and black. Nerina stepped back in surprise, holding her arms out in front of the other women as Alessio came up beside her.

"Niccoló, these are my adopted children, Nerina and Alessio," Paola said as she stepped around the man. "Nerina, Alessio, this is Niccoló Machiavelli." The man raised his eyebrows at Nerina, taking in the contrast between her clothes, her soft, rounded jaw, and flattened chest with slight surprise.

"A woman dressed as a man?" He glanced at Paola.

"Antonio has told me of his own adopted daughter by the name of Rosa who prefers to dress the same," she replied. Machiavelli shook his head.

"I am not saying anything against it. Rather, it seems that such an idea might help the women should anything happen during these… difficult times." He turned to Nerina. "It is easier to move around, _sí_?" Nerina shrugged and drew back her shoulders, motioning Alessio to relax.

"I prefer not to have men hooting at me as I walk the streets, _messere_. So in that respect, yes, it _is_ easier to move around." She smiled slightly, eyes glinting mischievously from beneath her lashes. "I must be seen but unseen, _sí_?" Machiavelli blinked but said nothing, merely nodded once and stepped aside for the women to enter the building. Lucia and the other courtesans ushered Nerina into the kitchen, leaving Paola and Machiavelli by the doorway. Nerina turned and saw Machiavelli's lips move once more, but could not hear his words or Paola's reply. The Courtesan guild mistress bade him goodnight and shut the door, turning to the three women.

"Sometimes I wonder why you don't want to wear the courtesan's dress, especially if you can make a man like Niccoló Machiavelli think twice about you," she said to Nerina as she set about helping Annetta and another of the maids make tea. The younger woman frowned in confusion.

"Machiavelli?"

"He is one of our more powerful allies within the Assassin ranks," Annetta explained. "He is part of the Florentine Republic and a _scrittore_. A writer. He's one man who doesn't like to fool around, especially with business. However, from loose tongues, precious information may be bought at any price, so be careful of those you speak with." It wasn't a harsh rebuke for her free-tongued error, but Nerina hung her head anyway.

"_Mi dispiace_, Annetta, Paola." The woman patted her shoulder.

"You'll learn _cara_," Annetta replied. Lucia spoke up.

"What was it that he was here for, _Madonna_?" she asked. Paola shook her head slowly, brows furrowing deeply.

"Something is going to happen, and it's going to happen soon," she murmured quietly. "All we can do now is stay vigilant."

-.-.-.-

From then on, the evening passed by uneventfully, and after the last customer had stumbled, tipsy and satiated, out the front door of the _bordello_, Nerina breathed a sigh of relief and immediately retired to the room she now shared with Lucia, not having to do the cleanup shift that day. The blond was there in her nightgown, lying on her bed, holding an open book. Ilario was there as well, and he immediately jumped up and excused himself from their presence as Nerina entered the room. She cast Lucia a sly smile, to which the blond blushed and threw a pillow at her. Nerina only giggled and sat on the bed, pulling the thong from her braided hair and undoing the twined strands. Lucia sat up and closed her book, rising as she helped undo the braid, gesturing to the tub full of hot water in the corner of the room.

"I thought you might need it," she said, smiling. Nerina returned the smile gratefully and began to strip off her grime-caked clothes.

-.-.-.-

Half an hour later, Lucia and Nerina were sitting comfortably on the blonde's bed, chatting quietly about the elusive 'man in white' the city had begun to speak about in hushed whispers, praying he would return to liberate the city before it came into the hands of Savonarola.

"You know, I heard a few of the girls talking—that some years ago, when the _assassino_ first visited the _bordello_…" Lucia began to giggle behind her fan, eyes taking on a dreamy look. "I heard that in those few weeks he spent here, he was _quite_ a _man_…" Nerina shuddered and shook her head vehemently.

"Men are disgusting pigs, Lucia," the brunette spat out. "I would never wish to love one, much less lie with one. The only man I love and cherish is my brother." Lucia sighed, exasperated, and frowned slightly at Nerina.

"Does that mean Ilario is a disgusting pig? As I recall, he's treated you with nothing but respect since Paola brought you here." Nerina blanched and whipped around, expression apologetic.

"Lucia, Ilario is _different_," she said. "He's been like an older brother, or an uncle to Alessio and I…"

"That's beside the point," she replied, waving Nerina's comment off. "_Cara_, you must learn to accept that the act of love is not just one used in a business such as this. Paola has taken each of us off the streets, educated us where no one else would, and kept us from starving, and so we all owe her," she said, taking the brunette's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "We've all been given a choice, Nerina, and there is no shame in not desiring to become a courtesan. I became one because it was _my _choice, just as you made yours to become a dancer and maid here. Just know that one day there may be a man in your life who will allow you to experience the beauty of making love."

"That day will never come," Nerina frowned. "I am not beautiful. Why would any man want me if I am not beautiful?" Lucia rolled her eyes and snapped her fan shut on top of Nerina's head in reprimand. The brunette shrieked at the sudden blow, but Lucia was already speaking once more.

"Then what were all those furtive, longing glances at you for whilst we were pickpocketing?" she asked. "Think what you like, Nerina, but the truth remains that you are a gorgeous young woman. Besides, not all men like a girl who is all beauty but no brain. You are both beautiful and intelligent, so those men, who truly value a woman's opinion and advice, are the ones to look out for." Lucia tapped her cheek lightly with the fan, a slow, sly smile curling her lips. "You know, I seem to remember the first time La Volpe's son saw you dance… He was staring at you the entire time… And then he comes here to give you some thief's clothes… Hmm, it makes me _wonder_…" Nerina threw the brush she'd been using to subdue her curly mane straight at Lucia's head, trying to ignore the sudden flush that colored her cheeks. She scowled as the blonde dodged the projectile.

"I think you fail to realize that _all _of the men who come here do that, Lucia," Nerina muttered, retrieving her brush to continue working on her hair. "Besides, what would I care if he stares at me? That man is nothing more than a conceited pig who thinks himself above everyone else, especially women. How dare he call me weak? I almost wish he hadn't come to save me when he did. Perhaps then I would have been able to show him—"

"Speaking of bravado will get you nowhere, Nerina," Lucia interrupted. "You were terrified as any woman would have been in that situation. You've lost this argument and you know it." Nerina pocketed the brush, biting back a scathing reply and, fuming, got up and stomped to the door, suddenly in need of fresh air.

"I still say he needs to learn that a woman is _not _weak," Nerina muttered. Lucia rolled her eyes and placed her fan on the bedside table. She blew out the candle and in the darkness that followed, the blonde shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position to settle down and sleep before she spoke.

"Be that as it may, _I _still think that the _both_ of you could learn something from each other." There was silence for a few minutes, and Lucia thought that Nerina must have left, before an angry whisper came from the doorway.

"I'll burn in _hell_ before I learn something from him." The door clicked shut after the brunette and Lucia shook her head, burying her face under her blankets.

-.-.-.-

As she exited Lucia's bedroom, Nerina saw that the window at the end of the hallway was slightly ajar, and she huffed quietly. She disliked Gilberto's frequent visits to the _bordello_'s upper floors to relay information between the courtesans and thieves in his father's absence to Paola, whose private quarters were just past the corner at the end of the hall. The fact that the insufferable man just _insisted_ on climbing up the outside—to "regain his strength," as he called it—just grated on Nerina's nerves even more. She shivered as she made her way to shut the window, feeling the cold breeze blow down the hall, ears catching the faintest sound of voices coming from Paola's room.

A sudden gust of wind blew the lamps in the hallway out, plunging Nerina into darkness as she shut the window. Unable to find the latch and grumbling to herself, she spun around, reaching out to one side as she blindly felt her way down the hallway, counting the number of doors. She was nearly to the seventh door when a sharp metallic click caught her ear, followed by the swish of a blade, like a pair of scissors folding together… or apart. Nerina whirled around and she could just make out the silhouette of a pale-colored hood drawn over a man's head. He raised his fist and she opened her mouth to scream before a gloved hand slammed over her mouth, throwing her to the floor and sending her into darkness.

-.-.-.-

Gilberto followed his father from Paola's quarters deep in thought. Though he was clearly exhausted, he fought against the yawns that threatened to split his mouth open. La Volpe turned at the sound of his son trying not to drag his feet and smiled good naturedly.

"You ought to get some rest, Gilberto. I'll come for you in the morning." The younger man covered his mouth and nodded through watering eyes.

"_Sí_, _padre_," he yawned, looking forward to returning to the Thieves' Guild after the few months of virtual incarceration in the _bordello_. La Volpe chuckled and gripped his son's shoulder.

"Is it really that bad here? You know, despite your rough beginnings, I'm starting to think you're becoming fond of that girl Nerina—"

"That_ girl_ thinks she knows better than I," Gilberto interrupted, not in the mood to argue with his father. "She's a hopeless case when it comes to pickpocketing…"

"Really? That's not what I heard from Paola," La Volpe whispered as they walked down the hallway flanked with brightly-lit lamps. "Apparently, she brought in more than twice the amount she had done while she was dressed as a courtesan, and it's all thanks to you, Gilberto—"

"_Padre_, can we talk about this later?" the younger man interrupted. "It's late, and I don't want to wake Alessio when I go in. He's got an incredible sense of hearing for someone untrained—"

"Oh, so _Alessio_ is the one you're interested in?" Gilberto nearly blanched, glaring at his father, who gazed back at him with twinkling, teasing eyes.

"I'm kidding, Gilberto. Go get some sleep. I'll be here early to retrieve you." The younger man nodded silently as he made his way down the hallway and down the stairs. La Volpe smiled as his son retreated down the hall, before slipping through the window at the end of the hall and disappearing over the rooftops.

-.-.-.-

Alessio was having a hard time trying to sleep. Whether it was the bruise over his hipbone that he'd sustained from being slammed into a market stall as he ran from a pursuing pickpocket victim or something else, he didn't know. His blue eyes watched as from the window came moonlight filtered through the lattice of the courtyard outside, throwing a pattern of silver diamonds across his and Gilberto's blankets. Alessio felt himself relaxing as he traced the even patterns with his eyes, and was almost asleep when Gilberto suddenly sat up, sniffing the air.

"Do you smell that?" he asked. Alessio frowned groggily and wrinkled his nose.

"No, I don't. What do you—?" The thief got up, opening the door just a crack. Abruptly, the room was flooded with the acrid stench of smoke that made Gilberto stumble back, clamping a hand over his mouth and nose. Alessio leapt out of bed in fright, eyes locked on the flicker of flames swiftly tangling themselves in the wooden lattice just outside the window.

"_Dio mio!_" he cried, a horrified expression on his face. "The girls—!"

"Alessio, get everyone out of here!" Gilberto shouted, yanking his boots on and throwing the brunette a rag dampened with water from the wash basin at the foot of the bed. His own boots clutched tightly in hand, Alessio stumbled out the door and out into the foyer, where a few of the maids and courtesans had already woken and were fluttering down the stairs like frightened birds with bundles of necessities in their arms. They crowded around Alessio as he surveyed the foyer, catching the distinct odor of smoke. It grew stronger as he approached the main entrance of the _bordello_, and he leaped back as the wood of the door blackened, allowing a tiny sliver of flame to burn through. There was the sound of breaking glass and a body tumbling over tiled flooring, and Alessio saw La Volpe rush out of the kitchen.

"Don't touch the door!" he cried. He'd seen the flames as he'd made his way back toward the Theives' Guild, and had come racing back to help the courtesans. He looked around at the assembled group of courtesans and maids, mentally going over the numbers in his head. There were still some girls running down the stairs being ushered by Ilario and Annetta, but even they didn't add to the total number of women La Volpe knew Paola had. He froze, realization dawning over.

_Paola…_

"Everyone into the cellar!" Gilberto cried, emerging from the smoking kitchen dressed identically to his father. The Courtesans immediately flocked toward the tapestry just beside the kitchen doorway, tearing a rug from the ground to reveal a panel of smooth wood with an iron ring. La Volpe helped Alessio yank the door open, noting the short flight of stairs leading down to the network of underground tunnels built specifically as a last resort escape route. The tunnels, La Volpe knew, would lead them away from the _bordello_, but he wasn't sure whether Ilario or Alessio knew of which way to lead the courtesans to safety.

"Get them moving through the tunnels," he said to the younger men. "Find a way to one of the allied courtesan outposts or the Thieves' Guild and warn them that La Rosa Colta has been compromised." Ilario blinked, trying to shove the cold realization as it came over him.

"And if the tunnels don't lead to the guild or outposts—?"

"Get the girls outside of the burn area," Gilberto interrupted, turning to his father. "Where is Paola?"

"_Messere_!" The two thieves turned at the sound of a shrill voice, watching as Lucia ran up to them wearing several layers of clothing and carrying a larger bundle of clothes than the other women. Gilberto saw with a slight shock that the thief clothes he'd given Nerina were among them.

"Volpe, Paola cannot unlock the door to her room, the door has been locked from the outside, and Nerina is with her! I tried to break the door, but I couldn't—" Gilberto tore away from them, ignoring his father's ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and disappeared down the second floor corridor. La Volpe called out to the other men hurriedly.

"Don't ask questions now, Ilario, there are lives at stake here. Anywhere safe is fine!" Just then, one of the maids tripped over the hem of her nightgown, and Alessio helped her up. He glanced worriedly at the front door, which was beginning to be engulfed in flames, before looking at his fellow guard.

"Come on, Ilario," he cried. "Let's get them out of here!"

-.-.-.-

Nerina ran at the door for the tenth time, jarring her already-bruised shoulder against the heavy oak, trying in vain to budge the locked door. Paola was frantically trying to open the windows, but doing so only let in more smoke and flames curling up the walls of the _bordello_.

"Nerina, get back! Let me try the lock pick—ah!" Paola dropped the pick the instant she touched the door handle, the hot metal searing the sensitive skin of her palm. Nerina dropped to the woman's side, fear and desperation evident in her eyes.

"Paola, how can I help you?" she asked. "You need to get out; the Assassins need you more than they need me—"

"No." The woman's interruption was fierce, though despair and pain were also clear on her face. "If we live, we'll both live. If we die, we'll both die." Her breathing starting to falter with the amount of smoke in the room, Nerina stood and angrily kicked at the door near the lock with her slippered feet. She was about to aim a second kick at it, when there came a voice from the other side.

"Get away from the door!" Paola yanked Nerina away by her nightshirt at the same time the heavy oak came crashing inward, pitching a soot-darkened Gilberto headlong onto Paola's bed straight across the room. He leaped up, wincing as his abdominal wound screamed at him, before reaching for the women's sleeves.

"We need to get out of here now," he shouted over the snapping of flames. "The stairwell to the second floor is already beginning to burn, and the foyer is not much better!"

"My girls—"

"They're all already down the tunnels," Gilberto said, pulling them through the wreckage of the doorway. "You're the only ones left." Not about to argue with him, Paola and Nerina turned and ran down the hallway, down the stairs as they dodged the flames, and were just about to descend into the burning foyer when a pair of ceiling beams fell, crashing into the stairwell and cutting Gilberto off from the two women.

"Gilberto!" He coughed, waving Paola's frantic shout off.

"Go! The women need you!" Nerina felt Paola pull on her sleeve, but she jerked away.

"Go, Paola! I'll take care of him!" She pulled away from her foster mother, running up the stairs to where Gilberto struggled to shove one of the burning beams out of his path. Nerina threw her entire weight against it, causing it to budge a few inches, enough for Gilberto to start hauling it out of his way. She backed up and rammed against it again, trying desperately not to think about the burning in her lungs and watering eyes. The beam gave way against her body, narrowly missing Gilberto as he pulled it back and out of the way, but it was too much weight for the stairs to handle, and the thief scrambled to keep himself from falling through to the flaming floor below as the beam plunged through the stairs, nearly taking him with it. His feet scrabbled to find purchase against the smoothness of the wooden support beams below, and Nerina threw herself against the floor, one hand clutching a railing support to steady herself, the other reaching down to grab onto him. Gilberto glared up at her, echoing the words he'd heard her say only hours before.

"Why do you care?" The look in Nerina's eyes was fiercely defiant.

"You saved my life once," she shouted over the roaring flames, "_Stronzo_ or not, I'm not going to have your death on my conscience!" She threw her hand out further toward him for him to grab. Gilberto gritted his teeth at her, gauging the look of terror mixed with determination on her face, the expression so familiar.

Just like Emiliana's.

He took her hand and with strength he was surprised she had, she pulled him up and over the broken boards, turning toward the trapdoor near the kitchen. Gilberto didn't realize she still held his hand until they had the door halfway open, when there was a heart-stopping crack from above, and they saw yet another ceiling beam breaking away from its supports. The beam gave way with a horrific snap, hurtling straight down toward them. In a moment of utter panic, Gilberto shoved Nerina down into the cellar, scrambling to shut the door over the opening. The beam smashed into the door, splintering the wood and throwing them both to the floor, sending them into immediate darkness.

-.-.-.-

After seeing that the courtesans were safe on their way to the Thieves' Guild, La Volpe and Paola hurriedly retraced their steps through the underground network of tunnels. Both of them were worried when neither Gilberto nor Nerina had followed after them, and dreaded that the worst had come to pass. As they rounded the last corner that led from La Rosa Colta, they saw glowing embers and ash seep through the broken wood of the trapdoor, illuminating the silhouette of a pair of unmoving figures lying on the ground. They ran to the prone pair, immediately checking for a pulse. Paola breathed easier when she felt Nerina stir slightly beneath her touch, and she dropped to her knees, lifting and cradling the younger woman in her arms. La Volpe pulled his son's hood back and bent to lift him over his shoulders, when Gilberto shot up, coughing and retching violently. Nerina woke fully then, bent double in Paola's arms with wracking coughs.

"It's all right, _cara_…" she comforted the younger woman. La Volpe rubbed Gilberto's back until he was done, before pulling him up into a relieved embrace.

"Oh, _mio figlio_…" Gilberto coughed a few more times as La Volpe patted his back, before turning to Nerina.

"Thank you," he rasped. Nerina blinked at him, confusion and exhaustion written all over her face "For getting me out of that scrape."

"… _Nessun problema_. No problem." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "Thank you… for saving mine. Again." Gilberto cracked a weary smile.

"_Nessun problema_."


End file.
